


We Belong Together - More from We Live For Love

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham's non-"Imagine" writings [4]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:52:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Various outtakes, missing scenes, and one-shots from theWe Live For Loveuniverse





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted on tumblr](https://gotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com/post/158418549341/7-from-live-for-love-please)

Original prompt: A Scared Kiss from the _[Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme](http://gotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com/post/158295267021/lustanddai-sweet-affectionate-moments-meme)_

* * *

She had leaned over his guitar to kiss him. So full of emotion from the song he had written for her - performed for her - used to share his love for her.

She couldn’t be comfortable. But he was terrified of ending it.

So he tentatively reached one hand to rest on the back of her neck - tangling in her curls, just like he’d dreamed so many times. Held her a bit closer. Pulled away just enough for them to catch their breaths. And then returned for more.

Praying he hadn’t screwed it all up. That she felt for him even a fraction of the way he felt for her. That she could see in his song all the promises he was too afraid to tell her in any other way.

Savoring this moment - with sirens wailing outside the window and the neighbors next door cheering on the Knicks - because it may be the last they’d ever share.

Finally, finally she pulled back. Reached for his guitar, and gently set it against the wall. Turned to face him - smiling brighter than he’d ever seen.

“Stand up,” she said quietly. Voice strong.

He stood. Knees like jelly.

Her arms reached - and he picked her up because it was the most natural thing to do. And walked slowly, slowly in the direction of her bedroom.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered against his lips.

He sat on the edge of her mattress. She wound her legs around his hips. He cradled her - the most precious thing on earth - and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t be afraid,” he swallowed. Praying that he sounded braver than he felt. “There’s the two of us now.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [originally posted on tumblr](https://gotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com/post/158377709341/24-slow-dancing-we-live-for-love)

Original prompt: Slow Dancing from the _[Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme](http://gotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com/post/158295267021/lustanddai-sweet-affectionate-moments-meme)_

* * *

 

Jamie Fraser knew it took precisely seventeen minutes for his wife to crash after the adrenaline high of a performance.

So fifteen minutes after they’d bowed for their second encore and separately exited the stage - ignoring the roar of the crowd packed in to the basketball arena - he knocked on her dressing room door. 

In this one area of their lives they remained separate - it helped both of them find the right headspace right before a show. And allowed them to have absolutely incredible private reunions after two hours of singing about their lives.

Quietly he let himself in - and found Claire sitting in a cozy chair, still clad in the black leotard that had become her trademark. But she’d kicked off her Chuck Taylor high tops and curled her legs against the side of the chair - and, eyes closed, hummed along to the song wafting from the tinny AM radio on the counter.

“[Bette Davis Eyes?](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DEPOIS5taqA8&t=NDMxMjBlYjljZjUzYmI3YTE4NGZiZTIxODZjYTMxZDgzMmYzYjgzMSxXSjJoQUtmeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AD4g0V6eDPQOnNH0JBcjUww&p=https%3A%2F%2Fgotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158377709341%2F24-slow-dancing-we-live-for-love&m=0)” he asked gently.

She extended one hand, and he helped her stand - arms automatically wrapping around her waist, holding her close. Christ, she always felt so small like this.

Slowly they began swaying to the music. Claire’s tiny feet - clad in her favorite tartan socks - stepped on top of Jamie’s boots as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“She’ll tease you // She’ll unease you // Just to please you,” she murmured into his neck. Teasing.

But tonight he just wanted oneness. So he held her - the curls at the base of her neck still damp from the sweat of her performance. Slipping his fingers underneath the leotard strap crossing her right shoulder - touching the small spot where his name was inked.

She slid one hand down his chest to rest over his heart - where her name was inked. Feeling his heart race.

“Your eyes are so much prettier than Bette Davis,” he whispered as the song ended.

She snorted. “I’d think so. You spend enough time looking at them.”

He nuzzled her temple. “They’re the color of Jack Daniels. I get drunk on them.”

She pushed him playfully, absurdly pleased and incredibly in love with this man.

“Too bad I won’t be able to have some for a while, then.”

Startled, he pulled back to look at her. One hand trailed to rest over hers - cradling her belly - and his smile was blinding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/159604788914/my-fair-ladies-of-imagine-i-love-you-all-in-a) on tumblr

**original prompt** : I loved We Live for Love - there's something so unique about their relationship in that story. So, even respecting the fact you feel that it's done, I would love to have a glimpse of their future - perhaps their first big concert together and how to deal with fame? Or our couple receiving an award? I'll leave the rest up to your brilliant mind!

* * *

 

They Live For Love

By Marsali MacKimmie

Exclusive to the Wilmington Gazette

–

If you didn’t know anything about Claire and Jamie Fraser – the millions of albums sold, the thousands of concerts on six continents, the ups and downs that come with any long-lasting career in the music business – the one thing that’s immediately apparent is their unwavering love and commitment to each other. That much was clear throughout the several hours we spent chatting over whisky at the trendy, yet understated brewpub in downtown Wilmington, where the Frasers played three sold-out shows last week.

“My ancestors in Scotland distilled whisky on their farm,” Jamie, 58, told me as he rolled up his sleeves after the second round – showing two arms full of colorful tattoos. “And I grew up with my father making his own in the backyard. This place has the good stuff.”

“Oh hush,” Claire, 63 and with wrists full of silver bangles, turned to me with a raised eyebrow. Somehow I got the impression that this was a typical exchange in their household. “He’s full of shit. His grandfather proudly got arrested during Prohibition. And Jamie’s been known to make his own whisky – even get the girls involved from time to time.”

The girls would be the two Fraser daughters – 31-year-old Faith, who just finished her residency in pediatric medicine, and civil engineer Brianna, 28. Both grew up touring with their famous parents – but never dreamed of a musical career of their own. “It’s interesting to us how they both chose jobs that keep them close to home – which I guess makes sense, since we dragged them all over the country when they were growing up,” Jamie mused, oozing with pride as he scrolled through picture after smiling family picture on his phone. “But now that they’re both settled, it means the wife and I can tour more without feeling guilty about it.”

Touring is something that Claire and Jamie Fraser have done since just about the moment they met – she was a recently divorced cabaret singer with a big dream, he was a down-on-his-luck guitarist living gig to gig in what was then the rough and tumble Alphabet City neighborhood in New York. “I used to crawl over junkies on my way home – and now on that same corner is a high class wine bar!” he laments. They released their first album in 1981, and the first single – “We Live For Love” – rocketed to the top of the charts. Eventually it hit number one in fifteen countries, and turned Claire Fraser into an overnight superstar.

“We were so unprepared for fame,” Claire says quietly as she looks away, thinking. “We’d been rehearsing and performing, and that’s fine – you can deal with that. It’s amazing to play for 100,000 people, and so cool to travel to all the places in the world you’d only seen on TV. But being followed by photographers to restaurants and having reporters go through our garbage – ”

“Nothing can ever prepare you for that,” Jamie added. “Thank God we had each other – otherwise we would have gone nuts from the stress.”

“Not to mention that this was the early 80s – there weren’t many successful female rock singers, like there are today. The stories I could tell you about asshole program directors or chauvinistic record execs – it would just stun you.” I watched Claire reach for Jamie’s hand, and he automatically took it. Effortless. “I had to put up with so much bullshit, just because I was female. I know I had to work harder, sing harder, just to get taken seriously.”

When Jamie said, “It was all I could do to not knock their teeth in” – I couldn’t tell if he was joking, or was serious.

That Claire Fraser endured her fair share of difficulty is well-known – she’s spoken about it numerous times over the years – but all that hard work paid off. Eleven records released – including a collaboration with, of all things, traditional Scottish musicians. Twenty million albums sold. Five Grammy awards. An Emmy for a live performance that was one of the first to air on HBO.

And now a special 35th Anniversary Tour – celebrating the 35th anniversary of the release of their first album, “Outlander.”

“We get asked all the time – who is the Outlander?” Jamie smiled. “And we both have different answers.”

“I always say that it was me,” Claire insists, running her hand through her trademark curls – gone gray now, but still vibrant. “Because when we were making the record, I was a complete outlander in the studio – I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing, and I realized just how much I had to learn. About rock music, about how to make records, and about the whole industry.” Then she turns to her husband and raises one eyebrow, waiting.

He takes his cue. “And meanwhile, *I* say that it was *us* - the entire band. We had a very unique sound and nobody quite knew where to put us. We had to fight every damn radio station to put us in with the Rock rotation, rather than the Pop rotation. We had to fight to get photographers to take shots of Claire that weren’t gratuitous – that showed her off as the kick-ass singer that she is, not just some chick in tights.”

“Hey,” she playfully shoved him. “You happen to *like* the chick in tights.”

“I do,” he laughed. “I do, very much.”

So – how much of this tour is to celebrate the 35th anniversary of the album, or their 35th anniversary as a married couple? (Jamie and Claire married right before “Outlander”’s release).

“Oh, it’s definitely both,” Claire is quick to reply. “Because as far as we’re concerned, it’s one and the same.”

“The first single – ‘We Live For Love’ – that was the first song I wrote for her. We still play it every night – it’s the one song that everyone always wants to hear.” Jamie pauses, thinking. “And I find that so incredibly gratifying, because it was *our* song – and it still is – but now it’s *everyone’s* song. I had no clue that’s where I’d end up – that it’s where *we* would end up – when I wrote it in my shitty Alphabet City apartment, hoping and praying that Claire would feel the same way. And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Claire smiles at her husband – and suddenly I feel very much like an intruder. “Would you believe that he tells the crowd the same corny love story with that song, every night?”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he rolls his eyes.

“You know I do.”

And they know that we do.

–

Reference: [Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo interview at SXSW, 2016](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D2x-WttD0EBo&t=YTAyMzA1YmE5MTJmMGM2MWJmNmFjMDZmMGRjZjAxYjU4MzcyMWE2Ziw1WEpkU3phbA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159604788914%2Fmy-fair-ladies-of-imagine-i-love-you-all-in-a&m=1)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at < href="https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/161624356488/for-ms-gothams-we-live-for-love-bc-we-honestly">Imagine Claire & Jamie on tumblr

**Original prompt:**

For Ms. Gotham’s We Live For Love (bc we honestly want more of it):

“Pat and Neil met exactly the same way as Jamie and Claire did - and ended up touring the world together, marrying in 1982 and raising two daughters”

Wee Frasers on tour perhaps, with their parents?

* * *

“Can you help me with the countdown?”

Five-year-old Faith Fraser – a spitting image of her mother, from her tight brown curls to her purple leotard, bright blue tights, and mini red Converse high-tops – almost bounced with excitement.

“One – two – three – four!” she exclaimed.

Jamie – perched on a stool right beside Claire in the dressing room – strummed the opening chords. Claire held a sleepy two-year-old Brianna close, gently swaying, counting the bars until she came in:

Many times I tried to tell you // Many times I cried alone…

It had been a lot harder than they had expected – returning to touring after almost six years away. From the moment Claire’s belly had started to show with Faith, they had stayed in the studio, focusing on Jamie’s songwriting and giving Claire the space she needed to focus on being a mom.

For they had secretly lost two other babies – which Jamie was convinced was due to their grueling schedule. So with this one, with Faith – everything had changed. Not that Jamie or Claire minded – four years on the road was a long time to be away from home. And even though they had their sanctuary in each other, had toured the world and had so many amazing experiences together – it was time for a break.

Always I’m surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone…

The record label hadn’t been happy, of course. The suits had had a hard enough time knowing that Claire – their female star, who they (unsuccessfully) tried time and time again to market as a wanton sexpot – was (very happily) married, and once she and Jamie told them of the pregnancy they were afraid of losing all the respect they’d worked so hard to gain.

But they had held firm – and Jamie had gripped her hand, a strong, silent support during that terrible meeting where all parties decided to take a break from each other.

Except the Frasers, of course.

Fortunately Jamie had already built their home studio – so that is where they worked.

Don’t want to leave you really // I’ve invested too much time to give you up that easy…

Faith had arrived a month early – surprising everyone. If Claire relished her role as a mother, then Jamie absolutely delighted in his role as a father, bringing Faith with him into the studio, watching her sleep safely snuggled in her basket as he recorded song after song that he had written for her.

Between Jamie and Claire and their small circle of trusted friends – Ian Murray, Jamie’s ex-roommate and their drummer; Murtagh FitzGibbons, the club owner who had introduced them; Fergus St. Germain, a French-Canadian bassist Jamie had met one night in Montreal and who quickly became one of their closest confidants; and Marsali MacKimmie, Fergus’ bubbly American wife who also happened to be very talented on the autoharp – their lives were full. And they recorded and recorded and recorded, away from the judgment and prying eyes of record executives.

And when Brianna had arrived three years later, they had even contemplated retiring from touring altogether.

To the doubts that complicate your mind…

But then one night, Jamie invited someone over to the house for dinner. Joe Abernathy – the A&R guy at Chrysalis who had helped them so much with “Outlander,” the album that put them on the map and sold over fifteen million copies around the world.

Joe had parted ways with Chrysalis right after “Outlander”’s release – creative differences, naturally. And now he was starting up his own label – and he was looking for big talent.

He didn’t make his offer until Jamie had gone upstairs to put the girls to bed. But he was very blunt.

“You’re a star, Claire. Your records are still selling, even though you haven’t put anything out in five years. People love you.”

Claire sipped her whisky soda, pursing her lips. Thinking.

“But I’d have to tour. And I can’t leave the girls, Joe. *We* can’t leave them.”

“You won’t have to, Claire.” Joe settled back in his chair, admiring the bright night spring sky. “You’ll do it all on your terms. I’ll let you do whatever you want – however many dates you’re up to. You’re in the driver’s seat.”

She settled back in her chair, watching the light go out in the girls’ room. “You’d do that?”

“I would.”

Claire waited for Jamie to come back outside and take his seat right beside her.

“Joe wants me to sign with him,” she said softly, turning to face her husband – her muse – her rock. “He says we can tour, with the girls. On our terms.”

“As long as you have something I can sell,” Joe interjected. “Rumor has it you’ve never stopped writing or recording. Play something for me, and you have a deal.”

Jamie smirked. Claire knew – relished – that look. For he – and she – knew they would have a deal. A very, very good deal.

“Let’s go to the studio, Joe. I may have a thing or two to share.”

That night, Jamie played Joe a demo of the song that would become Claire Fraser’s comeback straight-to-number-one hit. The song they used to close out all their shows on this tour. The song he had written for his wife and daughters. The song she had started – and for which his rough voice now joined in:

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder

We belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen under

Whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better

Brianna slept against Claire’s shoulder. Faith clapped her hands and swayed, so delighted that not only did her costume match Mommy’s tonight, but that Marsali – who along with Fergus, was a mainstay of their touring crew – had helped paint her nails with sparkles, to show that she was a star.

Claire continued her warm-up for the concert, heart bursting.

Jamie looked at her with hearts in his eyes – and switched to harmony as the chorus ended –

We belong – we belong – we belong together…

 —

[Pat Benatar - We Belong](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DqxZInIyOBXk&t=MWRjMmEzNTE4ZTFmY2FjOWRiNzU0ZjQ2MTMzODFjZjI2YThkYjdkYSxYeVkzSEZWTA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161624356488%2Ffor-ms-gothams-we-live-for-love-bc-we-honestly&m=1)

[Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo - We Belong (live, 2014)](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DlVDMG9YyhtQ&t=ZTRkYTQzYzYyMmMzMzU3YWE0ODkxZjFkMzUxZTdkMTAzNmZkN2RlMixYeVkzSEZWTA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161624356488%2Ffor-ms-gothams-we-live-for-love-bc-we-honestly&m=1)

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/162903782625/we-live-for-love-imagine-a-record-exec) on tumblr

**original prompt:** We Live for Love! Imagine a Record Exec propositioning Claire promising more airtime if she would sleep with him, and Jamie losing his mind... Please and thank you, Gotham.  

* * *

 

Jamie Fraser frowned at the rack overflowing with suits.

A music video – a *proper* music video. It would be good, the label had said. Raise Claire’s profile, now that there was a cable channel dedicated to music videos. Show the world how Claire Fraser was more than just a voice.

Or some other bullshit that he saw right through.

But he – and Claire – didn’t have a choice. The terms of their record contract stipulated that she – they – would participate in any and all promotional activities organized by the label on their behalf. Interviews were fine – annoying, but fine. TV performances were fun – though both he and Claire insisted they never go on any show requiring them to lip sync.

They had even filmed several music videos already – nothing fancy, just a rented soundstage with flashing lights and an audience filled with members of the fan club.

But this video – this time was different. The label had hired Stephen Bonnet, a big-name director who had already won acclaim for the videos he’d done for Ratt and Van Halen.

Jamie didn’t like him one bit – hair all slicked back, Ray-Bans strategically tilted over one eye, cigarette precariously dangling from his thin lips.

He especially didn’t like how Bonnet looked at Claire.

Claire had been all professional when they arrived earlier to tour the set and decide on the costumes for the shoot.

Costumes. What the fuck. He was a guitarist, for crying out loud – not a circus performer.

He had so desperately wanted to grab Claire’s hand as they toured the cavernous sound stage, craving reassurance. But as always, he let her take the lead, watching her walk directly beside Bonnet (with Jamie two paces behind) as he showed them how each section of the set tied in to the video’s overall concept:

Claire Fraser, a star singing throughout the ages – in a Viennese opera house (hence the stage and orchestra pit, still being painted by an army of workmen), at a speakeasy (just a dark corner with a stool and the prow of a very fake grand piano), on a 1960s variety show (a garish white set festooned with huge plastic psychedelic flowers), in space (just a green screen for now) – and finally, here in 1984, on stage in front of adoring fans.

The song was only four minutes long – how the hell would it all work?

And would any of it feature the band?

Apparently not – just in the final sequence, of course. Which was apparently the only place where Jamie – co-writer, guitarist, musical arranger, HUSBAND – belonged.

To her credit, Claire had let Bonnet talk, explaining his concept. Jamie had watched Bonnet ogle Claire.

Not the first time – but it didn’t mean he liked it.

And after the tour had ended, Jamie had been shooed into a dressing room to pick out a suit to wear in the concert sequence.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit – he hadn’t even worn one at their wedding. Claire had insisted – and he had loved her even more for it.

Tweed – gabardine – gray flannel…

Quietly the door opened –

“Jamie?”

Panic surged – he knew that tone. And whirled to see his wife wide-eyed, half-dressed, panting hard.

“What happened?” he croaked.

She swallowed, composing herself.

Jamie waited.

Agonized.

“I was looking through the costumes in my dressing room – and he came in, just as I was changing.”

Jamie surged toward her, gently taking her shoulders.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?”

Voice soft – cold. Hard.

She shook her head. “No – I covered myself and asked him to leave. He said no, he wanted to watch. Make sure I got good and ready.”

Jamie inhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m going to kill him.”

Then she smiled. Proud. “No need. I walked over to him – made him think I would take him up on his offer.”

She laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie seethed. “Claire – ”

“I got good and close and kicked him in the nuts.”

Jamie blinked. And gaped. Heart somewhere in his mouth.

“Can you find me a shirt? Let’s go. I’m not taking any more of this shit.”

Finally he remembered to breathe. Then he gently kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips.

Home.

Then tore one of the ridiculous jackets off of the rack and wrapped up his wife all good and proper. Hand in hand – proud and unafraid – they walked back to the parking lot. Jamie unlocked their beloved Pacer, and Claire slid behind the wheel.

They slammed the doors. She started the engine, and shifted to drive.

Jamie turned up her favorite metal station.

She turned to him.

“I’m taking us home, and I want you to help me forget this whole afternoon. Can you do that?”

Jamie took her right hand and bit her knuckles gently.

He held her hand the whole way home, as they sang along at the top of their lungs to their favorite Twisted Sister song:

[We’re not gonna take it](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D4xmckWVPRaI&t=MWI4OGQ1NTYxYTAxYzc4Y2FlNjk1ZDdlM2NkNDRlZWRmNDU1NTdkYSwzSjlLSXQ0WA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162903782625%2Fwe-live-for-love-imagine-a-record-exec&m=1)

[No, we ain’t gonna take it](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D4xmckWVPRaI&t=MWI4OGQ1NTYxYTAxYzc4Y2FlNjk1ZDdlM2NkNDRlZWRmNDU1NTdkYSwzSjlLSXQ0WA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162903782625%2Fwe-live-for-love-imagine-a-record-exec&m=1)

[We’re not gonna take it anymore!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D4xmckWVPRaI&t=MWI4OGQ1NTYxYTAxYzc4Y2FlNjk1ZDdlM2NkNDRlZWRmNDU1NTdkYSwzSjlLSXQ0WA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162903782625%2Fwe-live-for-love-imagine-a-record-exec&m=1)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/169698288078/what-was-it-like-for-jamie-claire-to-go-on-tour) on tumblr

Claire Fraser groggily sat up in the half-light of dawn, squinting through the hotel window, coughing. The sheets slid down her front, and she hugged herself against the sudden cold.

Jamie’s hand – warm, solid, reassuring – slid up her bare spine. Settled in the middle of her back.

“You OK?”

She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, and took three greedy gulps. Then sat up against the headboard, sighing down at her husband still tucked under the quilt.

“That’s three mornings you’ve woken up with that cough.” His voice was rough with sleep, hot against the skin of her hip. “You’re exhausted. *I’m* exhausted.”

“I know,” she croaked, watching the sun rise. Trying desperately to remember where they were…Denver? Boulder? Topeka? It was all such a blur…three months on the road for a summer tour, then two quick weeks back home in New York, and now two months back on the road for the fall tour. The record was selling really well – the arenas were all sold out. Two, three, even four gigs in a city. Thousands upon thousands of screaming fans.

The energy during each show was just amazing – people screaming her name, chanting her and Jamie’s lyrics, raising their lighters during the slower numbers the band needed to just calm down in between the fast-paced songs.

Claire gave it her all, each and every night. So did Jamie.

“There’s not much more for you to give, is there?” Jamie’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist, and he buried his nose in her side, right above her hip. Kissing the tiny heart she’d had inked there – surprising him on their first anniversary with something that only he would ever see.

She scraped her nails down his back, digging her fingers into his hair. Holding him close.

Orange beams crept through the blinds, landing on her blanket-covered legs.

“You know that whatever I have, whatever I give – there’s always something for you. Don’t you, Jamie?”

He sighed. “I do, Claire. If we didn’t have each other…”

“Sshh.” She turned to face him and settled down on the pillow, tangling her legs with his beneath the blankets.

Seeing him as if for the first time in a long time. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. Creases of exhaustion – rather than laugh lines – around his mouth.

“I can’t let them down today. The fans – ”

“Oh, I’m not saying that. Of course.” Gently he stroked her cheek – the pads of his fingers calloused from his guitar. “Only…it’s all the bullshit around this tour. They skimped on the hotel and bus budget – you know they did. And you *know* that Ian almost got killed with that faulty lighting rigging in Cleveland. Not to mention that pervy program director in St. Louis…”

Ah, yes – Black Jack Randall, whose music choices were followed by most of the Top 40 stations in the Midwest. During a meeting with Claire, Jamie, and Joe Abernathy about a month back, he had very casually remarked that Claire’s success was impressive as a female rock singer – and that he could guarantee her even more airplay if she’d do an on-air interview with him in only a tank top and shorts.

To which Claire had calmly stood and said: “Mr. Randall – let me clarify two things. First, I’m a damn good rock singer – the fact that I happen to be female is irrelevant to my success, so don’t push me into an arbitrary category. Second – the only person who *ever* sees me dressed like that is my husband. He’s sitting right here next to me, in case you hadn’t noticed. So no. Fuck no. Let’s go, guys.”

So they had left – for once, not caring about the mess that Joe had to clean up in their wake.

Now Claire sighed. “And they’re pushing for another album now. Six months after the last one is out. I can’t focus on creating anything right now, Jamie.”

He butted his nose against hers. “You have so many songs inside you, Claire. We’ve just got to find them. But I *do* know something we could make…right now…”

His kiss was long and warm and slow. Gratefully she melted into him.

—–

She woke again around nine AM, when Jamie – standing at the phone, naked – called room service for breakfast.

By the time he sat down on the bed beside her and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, she was already scribbling the lyrics that, within eight months, would be the hit single leading off her next album:

 _Do you think I’m a fool, well you better think twice_  
I’ve had enough baby, it’s time you realized  
That you can’t have it both ways, it’s no way to live  
You’ve done all the takin’, it’s your turn to give

 _One of these days you’re gonna reach out and find_  
The one that you count on has left you behind  
Don’t want to be no martyr, with no one, no say  
Oh my, my baby, before it’s too late

_Treat me right, treat me right_  
Open your eyes, maybe you’ll see the light  
Oh, treat me right

–

[Pat Benatar - Treat Me Right](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DdthHknNb_ug&t=ZDc3OTMwNjRjYTE0MWRlMDljOTFhZmUwMDY1NzEyNWYwMjJmYmZhNyxWWjFQRUs2eA%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169698288078%2Fwhat-was-it-like-for-jamie-claire-to-go-on-tour&m=1)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/174052273612/there-hadnt-been-any-chapters-of-the-band-au-for) on tumblr

Claire Fraser turned on her flashers and pulled on the parking brake.

“I’ll be right back,” Jamie murmured in the passenger seat, ducking for a quick kiss before opening the door and jogging into the convenience store.

Claire stretched, sighing happily. It was just past seven AM on the first day of a whole week off – and they were making the most of it. They had left their tiny apartment, picked up Jamie’s VW at the garage around the corner, and made good time up the West Side Highway and into the Bronx. Somewhere between two and three hours up the Taconic would land them in the picturesque town of Rhinebeck – where a farmhouse dating from before the Revolution was theirs, and theirs alone, for the next seven days.

The tour had been going spectacularly well – sales of the latest album were through the roof, earlier this year they had made their first tour in Japan, and she and Jamie and the band had played to a sellout at Madison Square Garden last night. Any trepidation about their third album had vanished with the first of dozens of positive reviews. Joe had encouraged them to be smarter with this tour – to say no to more dates, just because they could. To build in days off and mini breaks. To stay sane.

She watched a family of four pull up to the gas station in a battered Buick stationwagon. The father got out – and so did a very little boy, perhaps two or three. He hugged his father’s leg as he pumped the gas.

Her hand drifted to her belly. Three months along – thank God! – with their first child. More than three years of trying had led her to almost lose hope. Only Jamie and her doctor knew – not even her manager, Joe Abernathy, let alone any of those suits at Chrysalis. One of the things that she and Jamie needed to decide during this week was how to break the news – and what they would do, once the baby came.

For they both craved a normal life. Stepping out of the spotlight. Not that the fans weren’t amazing – the countless girls who had hugged Claire during autograph sessions, eagerly describing how she had inspired them to make their own music; the dozens of up-and-coming guitar players that Jamie had met and mentored since they had hit it big.

But fame was a dizzying carousel. Fun for a short ride – but staying on too long made you sick.

The hate mail. The death threats. The scantily-dressed women that local promoters in Detroit and San Antonio had had wait in Jamie’s dressing room – they always insisted on separate areas to prepare before a concert. The man who had broken into their hotel room in London and waited, naked, on the bed until they returned from dinner.

She smiled at the memory – at least *that* time quick-thinking Jamie had knocked him out cold before taking her downstairs to the front desk. Times like that, it helped to have a famous name – the hotel manager had profusely apologized, terrified of the negative publicity, and gratefully agreed to Jamie’s half-joking idea of the presidential suite.

The fan club, on the other hand – those were more tame. Most of them, anyway – they devoured every issue of the fan magazine, snapped up the limited-edition copies of songs that she and Jamie recorded on a whim, had pressed privately, and distributed directly to the fans – to Chrysalis’ constant consternation. Geneva Dunsany was the president – a perky, enthusiastic fan who at times appeared a bit too touchy-feely but on the whole seemed genuine.

It was Geneva’s idea – a rather good one, Claire had to admit – to do the photoshoot for People magazine. Claire and Jamie Fraser – millionaire rockstars - home in the tiny apartment they had occupied in Alphabet City since before they were married. Showing off their wall full of gold records, Jamie’s prized guitars, the tiny upright piano he had bought Claire as a wedding present. Laughing as they crammed into Jamie’s 1965 VW Beetle to escape the madness of the city. Claire sitting on Jamie’s lap on the subway, both wearing sunglasses, kissing like mad.

They were so, so happy.

Finally, Jamie breezed out of the convenience store – clutching a tabloid, to-go coffee, and paper bag. She leaned over the passenger seat to open the door, and he slid in gratefully.

“Did anyone recognize you?”

She turned to face him – and froze. For his eyes were wide – pupils dilated. His hands trembled as they clutched the newspaper.

“Claire?” His voice was so rough.

“Jamie? You’re scaring me – ”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes,” she replied automatically. “I don’t understand – ”

“And that it’s only been you since the day we met, right? And that I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman? Right?”

“Jamie! What – ”

“Here.” He thrust the newspaper into her shaking hands.

MY NIGHT WITH JAMIE FRASER!

The headline blared in three-inch letters.

FAN CLUB PRESIDENT GETS TO PLAY WHILE HIS WIFE IS AWAY.

All the breath left her chest.

“Geneva,” Claire choked.

“I have no idea what she’s going on about.” Now his voice was deep, fierce. “I *knew* she was up to something. That she had some kind of ulterior motive in getting close to us.”

Tears sprung to Claire’s eyes. “I – I…”

Jamie pushed the paper to the ground and grabbed Claire’s hands. “Look at me. Please.”

She did. His thumb stroked her wedding ring.

“You know it’s not true, Claire. You *know* I would never, *ever* play you false. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she hiccupped. “I know. You don’t even need to say it, Jamie.”

Then he crushed her in a deep hug – the parking brake digging painfully into his back – but he didn’t care one bit.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “You and the baby. I am so, so angry.”

“Me too.” She inhaled the skin of his neck – right in the spot where she would always taste his sweat, right after a concert. “I’m so angry too. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He sighed, and they held each other for a very long time.

“We need to make some phone calls,” she said after a while.

He pulled back just enough to brush the messy curls from her eyes. “I guess Joe, right?”

She nodded. “Let’s find a payphone. And then we’ll keep on driving. There’s nothing else we can do today.”

“It will blow over, Claire.”

“I know. I don’t even want to acknowledge it. I want to kick her out, and sue her ass until kingdom come.”

Finally he smiled. “Yes.”

“And then,” she swallowed, eyes dazzling. “Then – I want to wait until I’m a few more months along. And then I want us to get naked in front of a camera, and show off our baby in my belly. Would you do that?”

“Yes.” His eyes glowed with love and want and pride and admiration. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

“Good.” She leaned over and he met her in a slow, sweet kiss.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“Hell no,” she teased, pulling on her seatbelt. “Let’s go on a bit further. I think there’s a bigger rest stop not too far from here. Then we’ll call Joe – and then our vacation begins.”

He buckled his seatbelt. “As my lady commands.”

She turned off the flashers and put the car in drive. “I love you, Jamie.”

He rested his hand on top of hers on the stick shift. “I love you, Claire.”

Jamie turned the radio back on – and [Van Halen’s “Panama” blared](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DfuKDBPw8wQA&t=MWM2MDFiMzgyZGQwZjU2MmZiNzIyNWY4NDM3NTUxZDE5MjBkYzBmMSxTVVZleHBNVw%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174052273612%2Fthere-hadnt-been-any-chapters-of-the-band-au-for&m=1) – and Claire pulled the VW onto the highway.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/178416904367/claire-and-brianna-have-a-laugh-when-claire-is) on tumblr

“So, how do you deal with the jealousy?”

Twenty-one-year-old Brianna raised a curious, red brow and sat back a bit on the sofa. “What do you mean?”

Claire Fraser crossed one leg over the other, folding her hands on her knee. “I mean, Roger is a handsome guy. A couple years older than you. And a TA, to boot.”

Bree flushed.

“He’s got to have girls falling over him all of the time. I didn’t go to college, but I know *that* much. So – how do you deal with the jealousy?”

Somewhere in the house, Jamie strummed his guitar. Like it had from the moment she was born, the music settled Brianna. Helped calm her emotions – reminded her to think about what she would say, and not just blurt out all her feelings. Even if it was just her and Mom.

“I – yeah, it bothers me. But Roger loves me. He’s true to me.”

Claire tilted her head. “And he shows you, right? He doesn’t just tell you?”

Confused, Bree nodded. “When we go out – sometimes we go to bars. He’ll go up to order me a drink, I’ll stay at the table. And the girls will just…” She sighed.

“Let me guess – scoot right up close to him, maybe lean on the bar. Of course they’re wearing a very low cut top. Lots of makeup.”

Brianna gaped.

Claire sighed. “Sometimes they’re very direct about it – want to buy me a drink? – and other times they’re more subtle. What are you drinking? Haven’t seen you here before. I’ve got a free seat in my booth over there, do you want to join me?”

She reached to take her daughter’s hand, squeezing tight.

“Bree, honey – it’s nothing I haven’t experienced with your Dad a thousand times. I *know* how women can get, when they see a man they want. And with Dad and me, being in the public eye – and being *very* married – maybe it was a little bit worse for us.”

Claire watched her daughter – eyes downcast, brilliant engineering mind analyzing all the data in front of her.

“You saw it?”

_Somewhere in Los Angeles. Joe Abernathy had pulled some strings at Chrysalis and found them a rehearsal studio. Nothing big or fancy – just a small studio where Jamie, Ian, and Rupert could practice their guitar, drums, and bass. Where the group would adapt for live performance the sounds they’d created in the studio. If they were going to be on the road for ten months, the least the label could do was make them comfortable for the two weeks required to prepare._

_It had been a long, grueling day. They all needed to unwind. Ian and Rupert were crashing with Rupert’s cousin Angus, somewhere in the Valley. Preferring a bit more privacy, Claire had done her homework and cashed in a few favors. Which is how they’d ended up in a small yet isolated house in Laurel Canyon – surrounded by nothing but trees and the occasional coyote. There was even a great bar not too far away – a place where they’d gone a few times to sip beers and play pool and just blend in. And if the patrons recognized Claire, then at least they had the decency to pretend they didn’t._

_So they said their goodbyes to the guys at the studio, and Claire drove them to the bar. It wasn’t too late – just after seven – and one of the pool tables was still open._

_“Rum and coke?” Jamie had smiled._

_“How I love you,” Claire had replied, turning up her chin for a quick kiss before he made a beeline for the bar and she ran to grab two cues._

_She set up the balls, chalked hers and Jamie’s cues, and stood in the far corner, watching him order. How he casually leaned on the worn wood of the bar; how he greeted the bartender and told a joke; how he pushed his hair – growing longer – back from his eyes as he waited._

_How the woman appeared as if out of nowhere – her toothy grin flashing like a shark in the dim light – and leaned right next to him. How he ignored her. How she lay a hand on top of his. How he recoiled – maybe a bit too dramatically – and she screamed – much too theatrically._

_How the bar went silent. How her heart raced – please God, not another fake terrible headline to deal with –_

_And then how it all went back to normal. Jamie was there, setting down her drink and his whisky soda, and kissing her for all he was worth._

“You *saw* that?”

“I did. I knew I didn’t have to worry about it – about him, I should say. He is truly committed to me – he has been since just about the day we met. You know that. But what I was more worried about, was if it would somehow show up in the press.”

Claire sighed. “We didn’t sign up to be in the public eye – but that’s what happens when you get into this business. People wanted to know everything they could about us – about our marriage. How we could stay together amid all the temptations of fame and money.”

Bree snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Your love for Dad made you both stronger.”

Claire smiled. “Smart girl. But you must know how rare that is.”

“I do.”

“And you must also know how rare it is to find this kind of love. You can’t help but feel…inferior, a bit. Maybe that’s not the right word. But when you’re a woman and you’re surrounded by all these beautiful, glamorous women with perfect hair and makeup and bigger boobs and the perfect smile – well…”

“If this is your roundabout way of asking me whether Roger will be faithful, Mom – then I’ll tell you that he will. We had…well it wasn’t exactly the same as what you and Dad experienced, of course. But he called me one night when he was at a conference.”

“Let me guess – some professor hit on him at an event?”

Bree smiled. Jamie’s smile. “Something like that. He told me nothing happened, but that he wanted me to know. In case somehow it came back to me. He wanted to protect me, and to reassure me.”

The music upstairs shifted in tone. Slowly taking form into what Claire knew would be yet another brilliant new song.

Impulsively she pulled Bree into a tight hug. “Then I’m so happy for you. He’s a keeper.”

“He is, Mom. He really is.”

They pulled back after a while. Claire grinned conspiratorially.

“Does he have any brothers we could introduce Faith to?”

Bree rolled her eyes, and laughed, and the sun struck her hair like a thousand joyous flames.


End file.
